“Good.” Again she stopped suddenly, but this time the bodyguard was better prepared. There was less confusion, but somehow Farben, who thought he had been the centre of Charion’s attention for long enough, still ended up standing next to her. She looked toward the enemy camp, already half-built. “They will send a messenger tomorrow morning asking for our surrender. When we refuse, they will spend a few days testing our defenses; at the same time they will build their siege engines. In ten days’ time, or close enough, they will ask for our surrender a second time. When we refuse again, Salokan will start the assault in earnest. We must convince the enemy that our strongest points of defense are our weakest, and we must convince the enemy that our weakest points of defense are our strongest.” She grasped Farben’s arm. “Make sure my generals understand this.”
Farben nodded.
“We must last six to eight weeks. That’s how long it will take Areava’s army to reach us. Eight weeks if the thaw is severe and floods the rivers between here and Kendra. Six weeks if the thaw is moderate.”
“We will last six weeks,” Farben said with more confidence than he felt. The enemy camp seemed to be almost as big as Daavis itself.
“If we don’t,” Charion said, “we lose everything.”
As he always did, Sendarus rode by himself at the head of the main column. He did not get on with the knights from the Twenty Houses, forcing him to be aloof and alone. During the day he did not mind so much; there was much to be done—reports to read and write, decisions to make and review—but at night he could do little except inspect the sentry posts or lie on his blanket and stare up at the sky, wondering if Areava was doing the same thing.
After the army had made it over the ridge behind Kendra and entered Chandra, he started enjoying the countryside. He had never been this far north before, and to find a landscape that was so flat, so filled with the regular shapes of fields and orchards and pasture, was something new for him. At first, he could only think about how lucky were the people who inhabited such lands—rich soils, wide and navigable rivers, a benign climate—but then he remembered that the wealth of the land made it the target of every invading army and brigand. His own home of Aman may have been hilly and forested and cursed with soils too heavily leached by winter rains ever to be truly fertile, but only one army had ever had ever invaded its borders, and that had been centuries ago when the growing kingdom of Grenda Lear decided it needed Aman to secure both its southwest border against the southern Chetts and its timber supply for its expanding navy.
Four weeks after leaving Kendra they were nearing Sparro, Chandra’s capital, where they would meet up with forces that had sailed north from Lurisia along the coast, and the extra light infantry Sendarus’ father had promised from Aman. Sendarus felt their progress was good, and that they might even make Daavis before Salokan’s army. Then the messenger came from Sparro, telling Sendarus that Salokan had already invaded Daavis and that time was running out.
He called an emergency meeting with the leading nobleman and his captains. When he told them the news, there was a stunned silence.
“Salokan must have marched before the end of winter,” Galen Amptra said.
“I agree,” Sendarus said. “There is no other way he could have reached Daavis so soon. He must have taken the border posts completely by surprise, and his army is obviously larger and more professional than we guessed.”
“He has learned from his father’s mistakes,” a captain of infantry said, a man old enough to have fought in the Slaver War.
“What do we do now?” another captain asked. “We cannot cross the Barda at Daavis. Salokan will be controlling the river on either side of the city for some distance.”
“We must cross at Sparro,” Sendarus said, and was pleased to see Galen nodding in agreement. “But it will mean a longer march.”
“Six or more weeks,” Galen said.
“It will have to be less than six weeks. We cannot risk Salokan taking the city. If he does, we lose the north, and must base our supply in Sparro; that will be too far from the front for my liking.”
“How do we do it in under six weeks?” the first captain asked.
“We must find a way,” said Duke Magmed, a young and proud nobleman who had only recently inherited his title and was keen to prove his worth.
“We get our cavalry and light infantry across the Barda first,” Sendarus said. “They will immediately march toward Daavis, engaging the enemy as soon as possible but avoiding a pitched battle. With luck, this will force Salokan to break off the siege and retreat to protect his supply lines. Our heavy infantry and engineers will not be far behind the advanced force—two days at most if we push them. As soon as the army is reunited, we attack.”
“A good plan,” Galen said emphatically. He admired the consort’s grasp of strategy, and the speed with which he had come up with a plan that had the best chance of saving the kingdom from disaster. He turned to face the other noblemen present. Although not yet titled himself—every day he gave thanks to God that his father still lived—the fact that the Amptra family was the most senior in the kingdom after the Rosethemes themselves gave him command of the knights. “This we will do. Our cavalry will move across first.” He glanced at Sendarus for confirmation.
Sendarus, who originally had planned to send across a company or two of light infantry from Aman—soldiers trained to run all day if necessary—understood the meaning behind Galen’s eyes.
“That was my intention,” he lied, and the nobles rumbled their approval.
Sendarus made sure every captain understood his orders and his position in the order of march, then dismissed everyone but Galen.
“Thank you for your support tonight,” he said earnestly.
“You deserved it,” Galen replied neutrally. “You came up with the right plan of action.”
“And if I had not? What would you have done?”
Galen did not answer.
“Are you silent because you think I would be offended?” Sendarus prodded.
“I am silent because I do not know what I would have done.”
“Do you hate me, Galen Amptra?”
“I am suspicious of what you represent, but no, I do not hate you.”
“You are remarkably honest with me.”
“What purpose would be served by dissembling?”
“My thoughts exactly. Which is why I will now ask you what you will do when we meet the enemy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you follow my orders then, too, or will you do what the cavalry of the Twenty Houses has always done?”
“And what is that?”
“Charged without thought for consequence.”
Galen blushed. “During the Slaver War—”
“During the Slaver War, General Elynd Chisal refused to use your knights because he could not rely on them to do their part. Will I suffer the same?”
Galen did not answer immediately, but this time Sendarus waited. Eventually, the nobleman shook his head. “No. You will not suffer the same. You have proven your worth as a leader today.”
“Not on the battlefield.”
“I would never doubt the courage of an Amanite on the battlefield,” Galen said without hesitation. “When we meet Salokan, we will not engage in a pitched battle.”
“Good. In that case I will have no hesitation in giving you command of the vanguard. I cannot desert the main body of the army to rush ahead.”
Galen nodded. “I am ... honored.”
“When we do force Salokan into battle, I will ensure your knights are given a role fitting their nobility and strength. And when we return to Kendra, I will tell Areava of the part you have played in the kingdom’s defense.”
Galen viewed the consort in a new and surprising light. Perhaps the very thing that had threatened to drive the nobility and the crown irrevocably apart might instead be the key to their rapprochement. Tonight was proving to be a succession of unexpected turns.